Every Breath You Take by Bianca Sloane

Ty, who was about as crooked as they came, had bought his trumped-up story about bringing his mentally and physically ill wife here to live and how imperative it was to control her comings and goings to keep her safe. Of course, all that money he paid him under the table didn’t hurt.
    “So. Is everything to your specifications, sir?” Ty asked.
    “Oh, yes,” he smiled. “Everything is perfect.”
    “Great. We do have some more work to do over the coming months, but you should be able to move in on the day you requested, no problem.”
    He smiled. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
    Ty nodded and looked at him expectantly, waiting to be walked outside or, at the very least, dismissed so he could get on with his day.
    And indeed, he wanted to get on with his own day.
    He put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and smiled. “You know, I’m going to spend a little bit of time walking around, planning for the move. Thank you again for coming out today to meet with me, show me everything. You go ahead. I’ll lock up.”
    “Sure thing, sir. I’ll talk to you later this week.”
    The two men shook hands, and Ty showed himself out while he continued to ramble through every room, picturing her in each one, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling inside him like a boiling pot set on high.
    He waited a few more minutes, unable to take it anymore. He reached into his left breast pocket and extracted the lacy black thong. An involuntary groan came hissing out of his lips as he buried his face into the intricate ornamentation, his nose sopping up the thick, warm scent, his hand already reaching for his belt buckle as he dropped to the floor. He wrapped her underwear around his liberated bulge, already knowing it wouldn’t take long to come, and vowing to make the next one last all afternoon.

Chapter 20
SHE
    N atalie looked over at Jason slumbering peacefully beside her, still in disbelief the bubble hadn’t yet burst.
    It was late November, Thanksgiving having passed only a few days ago. It still shocked her a little that they continued to sail along on smooth waters. It had been a bustling holiday filled with dinner at his parents’ house (where, under Jason’s tutelage, she managed to deliver a winning homemade cranberry sauce), a Black Friday potluck at the roly-poly accountant’s house followed by bowling on Saturday night with her crew and their men, and finally lolling on his couch all day Sunday when not rolling around in bed.
    She stroked his neck now, smooth and warm under the cover of darkness, the soft moonlight splashed across their partially clothed bodies, mint green sheets twisted around them. Jason stirred a little bit and smiled through the half-moons of his eyes when he saw her.
    “I wasn’t drooling was I?”
    She giggled and kissed him. “Yes.”
    “Uh oh. Now you know I’m not perfect.”
    “Well, now, I don’t know about that.”
    He grinned and pulled her down for a long, slow kiss.
    “I was so excited to see you when you got here, I forgot to ask how your meeting was,” she said as she snuggled against him.
    “You did kind of pounce on me when I hit the door. See, I knew you were really a freak.”
    She laughed, embarrassed by his accurate assessment of her ardor. “Couldn’t help myself.”
    He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Baby, the day I complain about that, just go ahead and pull the trigger. Anyway. I’m probably gonna have to go to Paris next month, finish up this deal.”
    “What a tough life you have.”
    He laughed and swatted her on the bottom, which made her yelp. “It’s right after Christmas and, man, I hate travelling around the holidays.”
    “There are worse places I can think of to go than Paris in December.”
    “Hey,” he leaned back to look at her. “Why don’t you come with me?”
    “What?”
    “I mean, normally I’d get in, get out, but why don’t we stay and . . . New Year’s Eve. We could spend New Year’s Eve